


Praise the Law and Pass the Ammunition

by Bonymaloney



Series: Fighting It At Every Turn [5]
Category: The Outer Worlds (Video Game)
Genre: Bickering, Breathplay, F/M, Max likes it rough, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:53:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22105111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonymaloney/pseuds/Bonymaloney
Summary: It’s a beautifully simple equation; the right force applied at the right angle.
Relationships: Female Captain/Maximillian DeSoto, The Captain/Maximillian DeSoto
Series: Fighting It At Every Turn [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629799
Comments: 14
Kudos: 64





	Praise the Law and Pass the Ammunition

Even in the Captain’s cabin, the bunk is cramped. Max’s neck is awkwardly flexed, his shoulders straining, bent almost double as he is. The Captain’s fingers are twined in the hair at the nape of his neck, a cruel pain in contrast to the pleasure as her other hand busies itself elsewhere. The pain makes the pleasure better, actually, it gives him something to focus on and fight, and each sharp tug is mirrored by a throb in his groin as his cock swells and stiffens against his belly 

He’s often wondered if his wiring is a little crossed in that department, if the Plan might allow for mistakes of that nature. It’s a comforting thought, when he occasionally finds himself half-hard as he’s fighting for his life armed only with a tossball stick, that he is the way the Architect made him. But if that’s the case, then - 

Max shakes his head, he’s thinking too much, again. This is why he needs this, the red mindless pleasure that comes with surrendering his body. He’s rocking onto her hand, he realises, muttering “come on, come on, come _on…_ ”

Pearl pauses. “Why Vicar,” she says, her voice teasing. “I had no idea you’d be so impatient…”

”I thought you might know me better than that,” he manages between gritted teeth, “seeing as you now have your fingers up my - oh _fuck_!” 

She does something that makes him suddenly breathless, smirks down at him. 

“You’re right.” She leans forward, bracing against his ribs now. The same fingers that hack locks and crack terminals, working their way through all the secrets of the Colony, because she _can’t stand not to know_ and Max recognises that and respects it; now petting and pinching at his nipples and grooming through the hair between them. “We’re gonna get very intimately acquainted.” Her breath is hot in his ear, and then she bites it. “Are you ready, Maximilian?” Her lips and tongue soothe the sensitive tissue she’s just ravaged, trail down his jawline to seek a kiss, but he jerks his head away. 

“By the Law - just get on with it! Don’t fucking make love to me.”

A flash of hurt in her eyes, maybe, before she narrows them at him. 

“I’m sorry, Max, I forgot. You just want my _big abundance_ filling up your deficit, isn't that right?” She leers and changes her angle of approach, fingers producing a lewd squelching sound and a bolt of electricity arcing up his spine. 

That’s blasphemous and also a gross misrepresentation of the way he’d actually described their relationship. His eyes widen in outrage, and he wants to argue; but she _keeps doing it_ and all he can do is groan. Her fingers are long and dexterous, and her sleek body is powerful. She can handle herself in a fight; it’s something he admires about her. It’s why there’s no shame in this submission. But it does mean she’s more than strong enough to keep him pinned as he is. Not for all eternity, but possibly long enough for the sweet sharp pressure of her touch inside him to drive him beyond sanity. Because it’s good but it’s not what he needs, not enough to get him there. And having his desire agonisingly close but just beyond his grasp is much too much like the other thing, the thing he wants to forget for a while. 

“Please…” he gasps, his voice harsh to his own ears as he snatches a breath, and she relents. Max takes the opportunity to stretch, working out the crick in his neck as she busies herself with a lockbox beneath the bed. He spies a bottle of liquor, dusty and rich; the edge of a framed photograph, and wrapped in a scarf, a thick, heavy glass phallus.

She applies a clear, slippery oil to the shaft, and her lips quirk as she sees him watching. 

“Scared?”

“I’ve had bigger. What about you, Pearl? How do you take your pleasure?” The thought of her using it alone in her quarters excites him, and he strokes himself, hard but not too enthusiastic. He doesn’t want to finish like this. 

“However I feel like. Maybe I’ll show you some day… on your knees, Max.” 

He hesitates. “Can’t we… like this?” On his back, with his legs spread wide, he shows her exactly what he has to offer. Max knows he’s softer around the middle than he was as a young man, but he’s still well formed; and with no false modesty he knows the Architect was generous to him. 

“It’s harder to get a good angle like this,” she complains, but it’s an acceptance, and he presses his advantage. 

“Surely someone with your skills can manage, Pearl. Such elegant fingers, such capable hands. It’s a beautifully simple equation; the right force at the right angle…”

“You talk too much, Max.” She kneels between his legs, lifting his thigh with a firm sure grasp, her eyes fixed on his. 

Sometimes when Pearl is fighting beside him her face changes, subtly and completely; and then she’ll do something inexplicable. He’ll be waiting for her signal and see three marauders drop before he even hears the crack of the first rifle shot. So neat and precise, like an agent of Order itself; for all that she claims to favour chaos. 

She’s looking at him that way now; and spread out naked beneath her, Max finds it both disconcerting and extremely erotic, being analysed so intently as she advances. 

It’s a sudden plunge into ice-cold water; it’s a punch to the solar plexus; it’s a huge fat fucking glass cock shoved up inside him, stretching and filling him completely. Sensitive nerve endings scream at his brain, occupying it entirely with messages of _too hard, too cold, too big_. Max throws his head back and makes his feelings on the matter known, a wordless groaning cry of _no_ and _yes._ His whole body shivers. Before he’s had time to adjust, she drags it out slowly with sweet burning friction, and then slams it home again. Oh Law, oh fuck, oh _help_ he’s so full.

__

“Doing ok?” Pearl stills her hand,and Max bares his teeth in frustration. 

__

“Don’t ask me! Just- just fucking do it! 

__

She shrugs and presses harder, twisting and grinding into his tender flesh, and he almost leaps off the bed. 

__

“Yes! Void fucking take me, _yes_! Just there!” He fists his hands in the sheets, his pillow, his hair; he’s finally getting what he needs and he has to force himself to make it last because it’s _exquisite_. His body is yielding to something hard and merciless, and waves of pleasure surge through his belly with every thrust. “Don’t stop,” he orders, imperious. Pearl contemplates him for a moment, frowns and then presses her free hand over his mouth. 

__

He has to fight now, fight for every breath, and he laughs with the sheer joy of it as he sucks oxygen desperately through the gaps in her fingers. She’s still fucking him, deep and hard, and the waves are higher now, they’re up over his head. His pulse is pounding in his ears, and stars begin to appear at the edges of his vision. There is nothing in his head, and it’s bliss. 

__

Max comes with a shout, clenching so hard around the glass that it hurts, but the pain blends with the other signals rushing up his spine in a surge of ecstasy. His vision whites out in a beautiful supernova, his body shuddering with every spurt hot and wet across his belly. Every nerve ending sings the Architect’s praises, and as it recedes he is left breathless and trembling. His body is empty and his mind is clean, and he’s exhilarated. Pearl tilts his face to hers for a kiss and he yields eagerly this time. Her lips are soft and firm and good, her tongue claiming his mouth. It’s right for her to take pride in work well done, and by the feel of it she has utterly _ruined_ him. 

__

“Thank you, Captain,” he croaks. His throat is sore, but limbs and his mind feel heavy and warm. Pearl steps briefly away, removing the dildo and setting it aside. Max considers making a comment, something along the lines of reminding her to wash her hands, but coordinating his lips and his tongue feels like too much effort. She returns and hands him a rough warm cloth, and he cleans himself. The soap is not a brand he recognises, but it smells pleasant, astringent. 

__

“I’ve never seen you this relaxed,” she murmurs, and he grins up at her, entirely satisfied. “I guess Ellie was wrong… the problem this whole time was you _didn’t_ have a stick up your ass.”

__

He recognises this as a signal to resume their sparring; but he’s too comfortable and drowsy just now. They tear teasingly at each other to cover for what they both know; that sooner or later their Paths will diverge, or collide. Two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time, the superior will always displace the inferior. As it is with objects, so it is with ideas. She will come to accept the truth of Scientism, or she won’t. The bed is warm, he is Max, and all is according to Plan. 

__

Max is disoriented when he wakes. His brain struggles to interpret the evidence of his senses, until he catches sight of a familiar antenna configuration and realises that he’s looking at the outer hull of Groundbreaker through a huge viewscreen. His eyes widen - black fucking _holes_ , he’s naked in the Captain’s quarters, and the Captain is nowhere to be seen. He dresses quickly, cursing under his breath at the twinges in his back, the burning ache in his hole. When he cautiously sticks his head out into the corridor, the lights are dim and the ship is quiet. It’s still night cycle, his fellow crew are sleeping, and by the sounds of it SAM is occupied in the hold. Thank the Architect for small mercies - Max’s hair is in disarray, he’s sweaty and his backside and upper thighs feel caked in sticky-slippery oil. SAM would certainly offer to clean him, loudly. 

__

He sneaks back to his own cabin, the steel floors cold, and as the door slides shut behind him he stops short. Pearl is in his bunk. She’s wrapped in his blanket, but he can see loose, wavy hair, a glimpse of shoulder blade. The soles of her feet, pointing towards him. 

__

Max’s face palms feel hot, and he reflexively clenches his fists. The space around him suddenly feels different, awkward, as though all his possessions have been moved slightly out of place and he’s only just noticed. She’d had him in her bed with her fingers and more up inside him, only a few hours ago, and yet this feels like one of the most intimate experiences of his life. Strange thoughts assail him. He could wake her with a kiss. He could go to the galley, fetch her a cup of the mock-apple tea she favours. He could just slip into bed beside her and -

__

He steps closer and spots it on the floor. The Official History of the Hephaestos Hammers, face down and open by his bunk. The spine might be broken; there will definitely be dirt on the pages. 

__

Max grabs his towel and washbag and marches to the bathroom. He spends a long time under the shower, thinking about how he’s going to hurt Chaney once they get to Fallbrook; how his nose and his ribs and his belly will yield to Max’s righteous fury. There will be no more distractions; he’ll be able to put Bakonu and Edgewater and the fucking Unreliable behind him and focus with a new purity on his work. 

__

By the time he’s shaved and combed his hair, Nyoka is pounding on the bathroom door and cursing his name, and Max feels quite himself again.

__

**Author's Note:**

> Probably the first of many smut one-shots featuring Vicar Max.
> 
> With thanks to CharalampidisGruber and CBlue, who explained me (with many vivid examples) the difference between sacrilege and blasphemy.


End file.
